No Gooballs on Nomanisan
by Maculata
Summary: When sixteen year old Abigail Paladino moves to Metroville with her mother, she discovers something that has been kept from her for years. Mainly set 15 years after Syndrome's defeat. Possible romance. Status: Back in business!
1. Ordinary

_Disclaimer: You know what's coming... "The Incredibles" is copyright of Pixar and Disney._

**Chapter 1: Ordinary**

She answered the door reluctantly. It had been months since her husband had gone missing. She was worried, if not for him, but for their one-year-old daughter. The solemn man in the black suit sat down on the couch. She sat down in a sofa chair. His baritone voice was the only thing she heard, and when it stopped… she cried long and hard.

* * *

15 Years Later…

It had been a month since Abigail Paladino and her mother, Marie Paladino, had moved into their apartment in Metroville. Abigail, often called Abby, was entering her junior year of High School in less than two weeks. They were still unpacking the last few boxes. And the air conditioning was broken. Again.

The 16-year-old sat on the couch, fanning herself with one of her mother's magazines. Why did the air conditioning always have to break on the hottest day of the year? It was like some kind of unwritten rule. Abby sighed. At least the AC repairman was already here. It would be another "painfully" hot hour until she would be comfortable, but at least she had a nice cold glass of water within reach. Speaking of which, she was thirsty. Maybe it had something to do with the heat, or maybe it had something to do with dehydration.

She reached for her glass only to realize that it had been moved. The nerve! Now she had to peel herself off of the almost comfortable couch to look for it. She sat up to find her mother holding her glass of water as well as a thick paperback book.

"Mom! It's hot; I need water! Please don't bribe me and make me read some stupid book." There wasn't much of an uproar from the teen. 'Unbearable' heat tends to drain one's energy.

"You've hardly touched that reading list, Abby. With school starting so soon, you need some… neurological stimulation" Her mother smiled, handing Abigail the glass of water.

Abby took a few gulps of water before speaking, "But look at how long that book is! It must be, what? A thousand pages long?" She stared at the book, "There are only two weeks of summer vacation left! Let me enjoy them while I still can."

"All you've been doing this summer is sleeping, eating, and playing video games. Not much of a summer, if you ask me."

"Well… No one asked you."

"Your smart aleck remarks will not be tolerated, young lady." It was interesting how quick Mrs. Paladino could jump into strict-parent mode.

"I was only kidding, Mom," The teen chuckled. Sometimes, she thought her mother had no sense of humor, "What's the book's title, anyway?"

"'Les Miserables'. You might like it, if you give it a try.

* * *

Summer vacation always goes by faster than one would want it to. By late August or early September, the kids are shipped back to school, minds drained by the sun's heat. They hardly remember anything when they come back, so it always takes an extra two or more weeks for the teachers to get them back on track. By the time_ that _happens, the students are already bored with school. 

"A month into school, and we're already getting projects! 'Heroes of the Glory Days'! I get enough of it at home," Jack Parr complained to his project partner, "Can you believe it, Abby?"

"I'm not surprised." Abby looked out the window. The last thing she needed was some pretty boy as a partner. She'd probably end up doing all the work, securing the guy with a head start on his GPA.

"You're not even listening," Jack rolled his eyes, "Anyway, we've got a list of heroes here, and five minutes to choose who we want to do our report on. Figures."

Abby scanned the list, surprised. She raised her hand, prepared to ask a question. "Mrs. Farlin? Is there any reason why all these names are names of superheroes?"

"If you had been paying attention, Abby, then you might not have asked that question. You're to do a report and presentation, be it a skit or a slideshow, on the contributions to society that superheroes have made _without_ their super powers. There are more details on the project sheet, such as the grading rubric and how long your presentation should be." Mrs. Farlin moved onto her other students once she had answered the question.

"_Without_ their super powers? What a drag that'll be," mumbled Jack.

Just as Abby was about to discuss with her partner whom they were going to do their report on, an irritating beeping noise sounded from the front of the classroom.

"Okay, class, time's up. We'll be drawing names from this hat to determine who chooses first." She drew a slip of paper from a sleek, purple top hat, and said the name aloud. It was almost immediately followed by a voice shouting, "Mr. Incredible!"

Jack smiled; Abby rolled her eyes. She just _knew_ the next one would be—

"Elastigirl!"

And then…

"Frozone!"

"Dynaguy!"

"Thunderhead!"

"Abby and Jack, you're next."

Abby stuttered before Jack shouted out, "Gazerbeam." He smiled at Abby as though he knew something she didn't, his blue eyes twinkling. Or rather, assumed that she knew as well as he. His partner gave him a funny look.

"That boring guy? All he had was laservisi—" She whispered to him, but was cut off.

"We're not doing a report on their super powers, remember? Gazerbeam did a lot more than you think he did."

She gave him another funny look as they exited the classroom together.

* * *

"You're doing _what_!" Abigail's mother wasn't too happy with the history assignment, to say the least. 

"Mom. It's just a report on Gazerbeam. It's not like I'm smoking cigarettes behind your back," Mrs. Paladino gave her daughter a cold stare, "Which I'm not."

"I just don't want you doing a report on someone as… irresponsible as a superhero." Her mother chose her words carefully, as if she was trying not to offend anyone.

"Then go to the teacher to complain about it, don't shout at me over the dinner table. Sheesh." Abby couldn't see what was wrong with a simple report. Or what was wrong with superheroes, for that matter. Unless there was something her mother wasn't telling her. _Don't be so silly_, she thought, _that only happens in the movies or on television. Never to someone as ordinary as myself._

* * *

_ Author's Note: If you've already figured out just who Abigail Paladino's father is, then please keep it to yourself. It's great that you figured it out so fast, but I don't want the story "spoiled" if everyone knows who the father is. (Though most "hardcore" fans have already figured it out.) Thank you and see you next week._


	2. Research

_Disclaimer: You know the deal. I don't own "The Incredibles". I only own Abigail and Marie Paladino, and by that, I own the characters, but not the surname. Because that's probably copyrighted, too._

_Author's Notes: A big thank you to Ginki and Spindle Berry. As like any writer, I like to get feedback on my work. Plus, the first reviewers always hold a special place in my hea—Yeah, I thought that last sentence was corny, too. Anyway, enjoy the next chapter._

* * *

**Chapter 2: Research**

"When you're done researching, call me on your cell phone so I can pick you up," Marie Paladino had leaned over the passenger seat of her car to talk to her daughter through the window.

Abby sighed, "Mom, I _know_. You can go now."

She waved goodbye to her mother as the car drove off, turning around to face the massive front of the Metroville Library. Repairs were being made on the right corner of it, as it had been damaged in a recent superhero battle against evil. Nothing new, really. At least the city had grown accustomed to the property damage that these battles resulted in when the Supers Relocation Act had been revoked thirteen years ago. Even Bullet and Invisigirl, two of the Incredible kids, had helped in the reconstruction of the more severely damaged areas of the city. Abby spotted Jack leaning on one of the pillars of the building's front sides, then jogged up the steps. She brushed a stray strand of dark brown hair off her face, greeting him.

"I'm glad to see you're not late." Abby smiled. At least some of the assumptions she had first made about Jack had dissolved. He really was a nice guy.

"I'm the one who suggested that we meet at the library to do research for the project. Why should I be late?" Jack raised an eyebrow, "Let's get inside before all the good computers are taken."

They hurried into the building, prepared to research the superhero Gazerbeam. Although they had been assigned the history project a few days ago, they both agreed that they should get the paper done as soon as possible. They would need the rest of the time to memorize lines, and rehearse their presentation, since it was due in less than two weeks. Jack sat down at the only vacant computer a second before another teen. The girl glared at him as he smiled, apologizing.

"You're so polite." Abby teased as the girl walked away.

"Ain't I?" Jack replied, logging onto the Internet with lighting speed. He brought up a search engine and typed in 'Gazerbeam' before getting what must have been at least twenty pages of links, "Er… Why don't you look for Glory Day articles in the newspaper archives while I sort through all of these?"

Abby nodded as she left Jack with the computer. She came back ten minutes later with a small stack of newspapers. As one of the biggest cities in the country, Metroville had housed an assortment of superheroes over the years. Back in the 'Glory Days', there wasn't a single newspaper or newsreel that failed to feature something about one superhero or another. Titles such as "Baron Von Ruthless Foiled Again!" "Elastigirl Rescues Hostages!" and "Mr. Incredible Saves Cat!" would be scattered throughout the pages of The Metroville Mercury. Of course, as the era of superheroes came to a (temporary) close, the articles were published less and less. The public thought they didn't need supers anymore, that their saviors were causing just as much damage as the villains. More damage, in fact. Needless to say, it wasn't _too_ difficult for Abigail to find a few articles on Gazerbeam.

Meanwhile, Jack had entered the restricted website of the National Supers Agency, also known as the NSA. The NSA had on file every superhero that had been born in the United States of America, and recorded each of their secret identities, residences, and all other sorts of confidential information on said site. Jack scrolled through the list of names, skipping Elastigirl and Frozone; he clicked on Gazerbeam. He skimmed through the information, but found nothing that Abby and he could legally use in their report. As she came back, he quickly closed the window. The government didn't want the public to know anything about the supers, other than their contributions to society as supers - _not_ civilians.

"Find anything?" Abby set the newspapers on a nearby table.

"Nothing much. Not surprisingly, he was a big superhero rights activist. Other than that… nada. We can mention that he had a positive effect on the public, as any of the supers did back then. You know, before the Supers Relocation Act was installed."

"Right."

Hours of researching, brainstorming, and note-taking later, the duo had written a rough draft for their paper. Both of them waited in front of the library after calling their parents to pick them up. Jack scribbled his phone number and address on a spare scrap of paper and handed it to Abigail.

"How 'bout we meet at my house tomorrow so we can work on the presentation?"

"Sure. I'll have to ask if it's all right with my mom, though. She's a bit overprotective, if you know what I mean." Abby let out an anxious laugh.

"I understand completely," Jack noticed his mother's station wagon pulling up to the curb, and walked towards it, "Hopefully, you can come. Who knows? You might be able to stay for dinner."

* * *

"Okay, mom. I understand completely. Mrs. Parr will drop me off at our apartment later." Abigail finished the phone call with her mother, closing her flip-open cell phone to end the call. She had been at the Parr's house since three o'clock in the afternoon; it was almost 6 o'clock, now. She and Jack had made significant progress on their project, and had already started composing a script for their presentation. Jack looked at her eagerly as she hung up. 

"So can you stay for dinner?"

"Yeah. My mom's working late tonight. Do you think your mom could drop me off at my apartment complex?"

"Sure. Right after we eat."

* * *

It was like any other family dinner she had been to. The parents sat at either end of the rectangular table, and the kids sat on the remaining sides. Abigail sat next to Jack. The tall, bulky father, Mr. Parr, tried to break the ice; it was eerily quiet at the table.

"So… Abby. What did you say your last name was?" Mr. Parr looked at his wife. She gave him an apprehensive look.

"Paladino." Abby had no idea why he was asking.

He paused as if to think, "Ah… I _thought_ the name was familiar. I was friends with your father before he went missing."

"Missing? What are you talking about?"

"You mean your mother never—It was in the newspaper fifteen years ago." Helen Parr jumped into the conversation.

"My father… My father died in a car accident fifteen years ago. That's what my mother has always told me."

Mr. Parr suddenly stood up, prepared to retrieve something from his private room, but Mrs. Parr stopped him by shaking her head, "Bob."

* * *

The morning after, Abby hummed a tune as she fixed breakfast for her mother and herself. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast… the works. Mrs. Marie Paladino yawned as she came into the room, carrying the paper. It was a usual routine: the mother and daughter would switch roles; sometimes Mrs. Paladino would fix the meals for the day (not including lunch), and sometimes Abigail would. Abby set down both of their plates at the table, then sat down, staring at her mother. The middle-aged woman looked at her daughter before she reached for her fork.

"Is something wrong, honey?" Her daughter usually wolfed down her food like an animal, in the morning. Yet she hadn't touched any of the utensils sitting by her plate full of food.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me the truth about dad?" Abby wasn't the type to cry, even in emotionally tense situations such as this. Her voice was settled somewhere between anger and pain.

Her mother was taken aback, "What do you—"

"You know what I mean, mother. You know he wasn't killed in a car accident. You _know_ that he went missing fifteen years ago. Why didn't you ever tell me?" She was raising her voice – never a good sign. The last sentence was almost said through gritted teeth.

"I…" Her mother was speechless. For fifteen years she had kept just one secret from her daughter. She had known that she would have to tell her daughter eventually, but had always thought that she would be the one to bring the subject up.

"Why won't you tell me NOW?" Abigail was crying. Crying for the father she never knew, trying to understand what had really happened to him.

Marie Paladino got up from the table and walked over to the phone in the kitchen, concern written in her eyes. She called back to her daughter, who was still staring at the spot her mother had just left, continuing to cry, "You're staying home from school today, dear. We have a lot to talk about."

Yet the phone number she dialed was not for Abigail's high school. It was a phone number that scarcely anyone in the city – in the _country _- knew. She stared at the sink full of dirty dishes as the phone on the other end of the line rang. She looked at the back of Abby's head as someone picked up.

"Hello, Rick? It's Marie Paladino. …Yes, it's nice to hear from you, too. Listen. Do you think you could come over?"

"She suspects, doesn't she, Marie? You knew you couldn't hide it from her forever. It's better that the truth be told after all these years." The solemn voice on the other end was as calm as ever.

Marie paused, "How soon can you come over?"


	3. Confession

_Disclaimer: I don't own the copyrights to the Incredibles. There. I said it._

_Note: I certainly was late with this chapter! Sorry guys, but summer school (as well as a bit of independent art study) got in the way. I've had a bit of writer's block, too. At least the "secret" is revealed…__I know a lot of you are going to say "I knew it!" By then end of this chapter, you're probably going to be thinking, "What kind of super power is that?" or "What the hairballs?"  
_

**Chapter 3: Confession**

Abby sat on her comfortable bed, hugging her knees close to her chest. Her brown eyes were pink and irritated, still sore from crying earlier in the day. She had kept her distance from her mother since breakfast, rarely, if ever, talking to her. How could she keep this secret away from her daughter for so many years? Why? Shouldn't Abigail have been allowed to know what had happened to her father?

Someone gently rapped at the door to the apartment. Abby looked at her own door, wondering who could be visiting at such a time. Through her door, she heard the muffled greeting that her mother gave the guest, soon followed by the guest's deeper voice -- a man's voice. She heard the door close, more muffled conversation, and then footsteps. The footsteps became louder, stopping just outside Abigail's door. A knock on the locked door, and her mother's voice…

"Abby, honey? Would you please come out of your room? We have a guest." Marie Paladino was gentle. She was fully aware that her daughter was still upset.

Abigail wiped her eyes, moving herself to the edge of her bed, "Why?"

"I'd like you to meet him. Now, please, come out of your room."

Her daughter was hesitant, slowly opening the door. She stepped out, not uttering a word, and followed her mother into the living room. An older man, who must have been somewhere around 60-years-old, sat on the couch. He sat in a casual position, hands between his knees, slightly hunched. Yet he almost looked authoritative, sitting calmly in his plain business suit and tie. Abby and her mother sat on the couch opposite him, separating themselves from him with a glass coffee table.

"Abby, I'd like you to meet Mr. Rick Dicker. Rick: Abby," Marie Paladino introduced them, gesturing towards the government man.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Abigail," His solemn, baritone voice greeted the teen as he held out his hand.

"Are you an old friend of my mother's?" Abby was just as confused as she had been the night before. She shook the man's hand.

He chuckled, "You could say that."

"The reason he's here has something to do with your father… and yourself, Abby," Her mother got right to the point, as if she was thinking, _Let's get this over with_, "Your father was Gazerbeam."

Abby's eyes grew wide; she turned to face her mother in disbelief, then back to Mr. Dicker. She was struck dumb, speechless.

"It's hard to believe, I know, but… uh… Rick?" Gazerbeam's widowed wife looked at the man across from herself for help. He was already opening his previously unnoticed briefcase. There was now a manila folder in his hands. It was labeled, "GAZERBEAM." Rick Dicker slid it across the coffee table to Abigail; he looked more professional than he had before.

"Abigail, I am not only a friend of your parents'. I am a government official of the NSA," Mr. Dicker was straightforward; Abby was still confused, "also called the National Supers Agency. We keep on file all information, both public and private, on every superhero that has serviced this country.

"Gazerbeam, Simon J. Paladino, you father, was just one of those supers. Not only did he aid the United States with his laser vision, but he was also one of the most prominent advocates for superhero rights after the Supers Relocation Act was installed."

Abigail opened the folder, spreading out all the official-looking documents on the table. She looked at each one carefully, glancing at what was written on each form. A profile on Gazerbeam, the superhero; a profile on the pro-bonds lawyer, Simon J. Paladino; a list of former addresses, relocation forms, lists of those who needed their memory erased; a newspaper clipping of fifteen years ago, stating the disappearance of Mr. Paladino, as well as a later obituary (which failed to mention how he actually died); and, finally, a document recording Abigail Paladino's first few years of life. She picked the last document up, scanning its contents. It made absolutely no sense to her. Suspected super? A request for permission to modify her memory at age five? Abby looked at her mother.

Marie Paladino looked apologetic, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Abby. I... just wanted you to grow up like a normal girl, without the knowledge that your father was a super."

Abigail looked down at the scattered documents on the coffee table, and then hugged her mother. It was not necessarily a hug to say thank you. No. The teen was yearning for her lost father once more. Rick Dicker interrupted them.

"Of course, there's still the matter of a new super--"

"What new super?" Abby's ears perked up as she looked up at Mr. Dicker.

"Rick, please..." Marie's eyes were fearful. She hadn't merely wanted Abby to grow up normally. She didn't want to lose her only daughter to super villainy like Simon J. Paladino had been lost.

"Marie, you know she needs to know," he said, taking a video tape labeled 'ABIGAIL PALADINO' out of his briefcase, "Would you set up your VCR, please?"

Abby's mother complied, getting up to turn on the television and the VCR. Rick Dicker handed the tape to her; she pushed it into the slot and pressed play. A second of static later, and the tape had started. Home video of what must have been a 6-month-old Abby. A "boring" voice was telling the infant to look at the camera; her father's voice was loving. The infant gave her dad a toothless smile in her highchair, baby food all over her face and hands. A beam of light passed the infant's head, and the cereal box behind her burst into flames. The camera was set down, and a bit of chaos ensued. Baby Abigail giggled, and the "boring" voice apologized as a fire extinguisher was brought in. Mr. Dicker pressed fast forward.

Sixteen-year-old Abby stared at the television, "What was th—"

"Shh. Just keep watching, sweetie."

Fast forward to a few months later. Simon J. Paladino held 9-month-old Abby up by her hands. The infant giggled, taking a few wobbly steps towards the camera. She fell on her bottom, looking surprised before she started crying. The camera took some footage of the ground, and then pointed at Abby from an ant's perspective. Her parents tried to calm their child down when something strange happened. Some kind of clear goop began to coat baby Abby's arms and hands. Marie and Simon gave her even more attention because of the goop; Abby calmed down and secreted even more of it from her minute hands.

The remainder of the video followed Abby through her early childhood. (Her father disappeared from the home movies shortly after her first birthday.) Each segment would show Abby at an older age, Abby with more control over her ability, Marie growing more worried. The tape stopped at the daughter's fifth birthday party. Mr. Rick Dicker turned off the TV and VCR as Abigail looked at her mother once more.

"I inherited… super powers?" Abby tested the words on her tongue. She didn't know what to think at this point. It was all moving so fast. Her mother solemnly nodded her head in defeat.


	4. Trust

_Disclaimer:__ If I owned the Incredibles, would I really be writing fanfiction?_

_Author's Note:__ Thanks to both Ms. Kinnikufan and Spindle Berry for the suggestions. Ms. Kinnikufan, I hope that this chapter answers your question. Spindle Berry, I can't thank you enough for the editing. To everyone else, I apologize for the four month long wait, guys. I've already started writing chapter five, so hopefully, you'll only have to wait a week for the next chapter._

**Chapter Four: Trust**

It was a good thing that Abby had only missed Friday. It had given her time to collect herself emotionally, those two days over the weekend. Though she wasn't very religious, even going to church had helped. When she finally got back to school, she was a little more collected than she had been, and didn't burst out crying in any of her classes that day. She avoided what few friends she had; she told them that she had had the flu, just to get her classmates off her back about skipping school (not that many of them cared, anyway). She even avoided Jack, except to discuss when and where they'd be meeting to work on their history project.

She was relieved when school was finally over. Though people would probably still continue to ask if anything was wrong with her throughout the week, she would savor what little alone time she had in the afternoons.

"Abby!" Someone called as she made her way though the crowded hallway to the exit. She ignored the call. "Abby, wait up!"

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder as she came out of the building. She turned to glare at none other than Jack Parr. "Abby, you've been avoiding everyone all day. What's wrong?" Jack looked genuinely worried, and was wondering if it had been something he had said earlier.

"I don't want to talk about it." Abby flatly, turning in the direction of the nearest park.

Jack followed a couple of steps behind her. "Talking about what's obviously upsetting you would help…" he said in an intonation.

Abby kept silent for about two or three blocks before she spoke again. She didn't notice the clear goop that was now coating her forearms, from her elbows to her tightly clenched fists.

"You know how your dad mentioned that he knew my dad before he went missing, and I said that he… that he died in a car accident?"

"Yeah…" Jack was now walking side by side with Abigail.

"Well, you dad was right." Abby paused. "I found out Friday that my mom has been lying to me for all these years, avoiding the truth. I… I can barely trust her right now."

Her eyes started to tear up. "It's almost like losing him all over again, even though I was too young to remember his disappearance or anything like that." She rubbed one of her eyes with her hand. A hand, she now noticed, that was saturated with an inch or two of some unknown, clear substance. She stared at her hand in shock, one eye still closed; she lifted up her other arm, and sure enough, the clear glop was there too. Jack stared at her hands, then hurriedly steered her into an empty alleyway and behind a dumpster.

"Abby, you've got to calm down…" Jack looked back at the entrance to the alley to make sure that no one was curious as to what was happening. No one was.

The sixteen-year-old girl was silent, her thoughts jumbled. What was happening? Was it coming out again? She had thought after watching that collection of surreal home movies that she no longer had super powers, that her powers had gone dormant, or had just died, disappeared somehow. Yet here was this clear goop coating her arms, creeping upwards, moving. Had it been "boiling" beneath the surface a few minutes ago, when her thoughts had angrily been directed at her mother? She could feel the non-liquid shifting around, moving in every direction as she thought. Was it expressing her confusion in this situation? Just thinking about these things, just concentrating on the event at hand, calmed her down about her mistrust in her mother. Abby was still quite confused and frightened about the stuff on her arms.

As Jack saw Abby calm down slightly, he spoke aloud, "We've got to get you home, but how? Obviously, we can't walk you home. If you have no control, then people will notice the—" he looked at the strange goop on her arms, "The… whatever-it-is on your arms. Perhaps I could call my mom to pick us up and drive you to your—"

"No." Abby had been trying to get the goop off of her arms, to no success, while Jack had been thinking out loud. Whenever she tried to wipe it off, it would harden, making it impossible to move her arms or rub the substance off with her hands.

"Something's happening at home."

Abigail looked at the ground. "Yes."

* * *

The daughter of Gazerbeam waited in the Parr's kitchen as the family had a discussion in one of the bedrooms. She had called her mother to let her know that she would be at Jack's house to "work on their project." Of course, her arms and hands had still been covered in the goop – just as they were at the moment—so Jack's mother had had to hold the phone for her… but that was beside the point. Now, she was nervously waiting for Jack and his parents to end whatever discussion they were having. 

She heard a door open, and some muffled conversation. Jack came into the kitchen, followed by his mother and father. Mrs. Parr sat down next to Abby, and Jack sat across from her. Mr. Parr leaned against the wall by the doorway into the kitchen.

Jack spoke first; "So, uh, obviously, you have super powers…"

"We've covered that already," Abby mumbled, staring at her still-goo-encased forearms. She didn't smile—she was thinking about what her mother would say.

"Have you ever heard of the National Supers Agency?" Helen Parr asked.

"The NSA? Yeah. Mr. Di—"she stopped. "Wait. How do _you_ know about it?"

Bob Parr directed a mumbled remark at his son. "Now's as good a time as any," he said. His voice revealed a level of impatience; he didn't seem as calm or as suave as he usually was.

"Um, Abby…" Jack looked at his mother as if to verify something—she nodded.

"She was going to find out eventually, sweetie. Go on."

Jack seemed to gain a little confidence when his mother nodded. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl," he said. Then he paused, as if the moment had some kind of dramatic value. "…otherwise known as Mr. And Mrs. Parr, my parents."

Abby stood up, staring at Helen and Bob—Elastigirl and Mr. Incredible? —in disbelief. "No—you're not" she stuttered, "—you're lying." She stood up and backed toward the kitchen counter, the goop on her arms hardening in defense.

Helen leaned towards Abby. "Abigail, calm down… We can prove it to you." Abby tried to back up further, but was stopped by the counter. "We're not going to hurt you."

Mrs. Parr sighed, and then stretched her arms so they touched the opposite side of the room. Mr. Robert "Bob" Parr lifted the kitchen table with one hand as though it were feather-light, then carefully set it down. After their demonstrations, both parents looked at Jack expectantly. Abby first looked at Jack's parents, and then cast her eyes toward him.

"Jack has powers, too." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, silently uttered from Abby's lips. She looked at her friend, confounded.

He gave her a sheepish look, his face slightly red with embarrassment, "You're looking at the superhero known as _Transmatter_."

A bemused look lingering on her face, Abby looked on as Jack demonstrated one of his many powers. His eyebrows knit together as he concentrated, and his right hand started to glow blue.

"Now watch my hand carefully…" He looked at his right hand as he guided it though the table. Abby crouched down to see under the table, and saw Jack's fingers sticking through the underside of it. She felt her stomach churn. Jack quickly pulled his hand out of the table, allowing his digits to solidify. He turned to Abby, who just stared. She turned her back on the Parrs.

"I can't." She said.

"What…?" Bob looked at his wife, a genuinely quizzical look on his face.

"I can't do it."

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked, equally confused.

"You're going to ask me to become a superhero… I could never do it."

"Abigail, we weren't going to ask—" Helen was cut off by the tense teenager.

"Do you have any idea what my mother would think? I could end up getting myself _killed_, just like my—" her eyes teared in frustration, "…like my…"

"We just want to help." Mr. Parr said sincerely.

"Help with what? With this?" She turned to face them, holding up her encased arms, her hands immobilized by the still hardened goop, "I can't see any possible way you can help with this. None of you even have the same powers as me! If you can even call this a power…"

"You can learn to control it, Abby. Who do you think showed _me_ how?" Jack looked into her fearful eyes, smiling.

"When? My mother would find out eventually… You know she did what she did to protect me." The girl was resentful.

Helen's expression became stern, "We never heard anything. Neither my husband nor I knew about you until a few days ago. We had always thought that Simon would never get married, much less have a child."

"Unless it directly involves hero work, the NSA generally keeps quiet about a super's family," Mr. Parr explained, "What happened?"

Abigail explained that, when she had been five years old, her mother had filled out some paperwork, asking that Abby's memories of her powers be removed. Not only that, but if her powers showed themselves again, Abby would forget about them immediately.

"That doesn't explain why you haven't gotten a sudden case of amnesia right now," Jack mentioned.

Abby paused, "No… it doesn't. I think something in those movies that Mr. Dicker showed me may have triggered something, shut down that barrier in my memory, or something."

"You think so?" Mr. Parr asked. He had never known that memory could be controlled to such a thorough extent.

"It's just a theory, "Abby shrugged; all of the talk had calmed her down considerably, "So… What was it you were saying about control?" 


End file.
